


Stubborn

by makesometime



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Because Our Boy Deserves Better, Ending Fix, F/M, Requited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 14:21:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: She sees it all happen in slow motion, a hideous feigning of one of Aristophanes' stupid dramas. Deimos, advancing on Brasidas as if she hadn't made the barest headway with him in that Gods damned prison, as if somehow he knows exactly what the Spartan means toher.





	Stubborn

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-ending spoilers ahead. I played the Battle of Amphipolis last night despite knowing what was coming, then went and curled up in bed and anger-wrote on my phone. This is now my new canon, because Ubisoft really missed their chance here.

She sees it all happen in slow motion, a hideous feigning of one of Aristophanes' stupid dramas. Deimos, advancing on Brasidas as if she hadn't made the barest headway with him in that Gods damned prison, as if somehow he knows exactly what the Spartan means to _her_. 

Her brother looks almost feral, a pleased sort of smile on his face as he grows closer, throwing Spartan soldiers left and right. Kassandra feels rooted, stuck until there are no men left between him and Brasidas. She calls for him, for _them_ , but the words stick in her throat. The intent is clear. Neither will back down. It is not in their nature. 

_Gods_ **_damn_ ** _Spartan stubbornness._

She takes a step at the first clang of their weapons, the battlefield falling to silence around her. Another, as Brasidas loses his shield. She's certain there are blows coming her way but she is blind to them, needing only to get closer, to stop the inevitable before she can lose a piece of her heart to petty vindictiveness. 

She chokes on a cry when Deimos takes the spear, twirling it in his grip as if he has any kinship with the weapon, as if he has any right to bear the thing that has saved her life on more occasions than she cares count. Brasidas stumbles, his weakened leg twisting as the spear flies forward in her brother's hand. 

In the end, it is this that saves him. 

The bronze speartip, primed for his throat, slips just past and cuts into the curve of his shoulder instead, blood spraying in a viscous fountain that turns her stomach even as it spurs her on once more. She focuses on little more than one foot in front of the other, unaware that the angry bellow she hears is coming from her until she collides full-force with her brother, Leonidas’ spear grinding against his sword with all of her strength. 

She curses him, the words pointless and fuelled by barely-stifled grief, his eyes cold as hers fill with frustrated tears. In the moment she knows she could kill him, despite what she promised _mater_. She has the strength, the will, the cause. 

The arrow is a shock, but not as much as it is to her brother, his jaw falling slack as his body reacts to the pain. He falls, and she shrugs his weight off of her, watching Kleon flee towards the coast. 

"Brasidas!" She cries, turning to find him in the ground, clutching at his torn skin with filthy hands. She starts towards him but he shakes his head with a wince. 

"Get Kleon."

She wants to argue. She _should_ argue. Deimos has come back from worse. If she leaves him now, she cannot control what happens next. 

" **Go** Kassandra."

With a final look, her heart overflowing with things she should have said before but has no talent in expressing, Kassandra runs. 

#

Deimos is gone when she returns, twirling Kleon's fragment between her fingers in what is an undeniable act of anxiety. She hastens her steps back into the arena, scared what she might find, and exhales sharply at the sight of Brasidas upright, leaning on his spear. Someone has found him a cloth, which he holds weakly to his shoulder. (It's Spartan red, cunningly disguising the amount of blood he must have lost.)

She hates how pale he looks, how weak. It's not the man she knows, the man she lo-. 

His eyes brighten when he spots her and not for the first time it feels as if a golden cord is attached between them, reeling her closer by sheer fated will. Perhaps Eros caught them both when they weren't looking, the gods now enjoying the spectacle of their meddling from Olympos. 

If she took a moment to pause, she might have reconsidered. Thought about it a little deeper, and realised the implications. But she's always been impulsive. Rash decisions are her speciality. 

She murmurs his name, her voice halfway broken and unfamiliar sounding. His lips part, to speak or to sigh, she isn't sure. Realisation colours his expression a moment before she gets to him and she wonders what that says about them both. To have forced it away for all this time. 

One of her hands settles on his hip, the other coming up to tangle in his short hair. Brasidas grunts, fighting the pain of his wound and the need to hold her. He cannot move his arm to embrace her so he presses his forehead to hers, nose nudging intimately against her own. 

"I thought..."

As she speaks, her lips brush his in the barest hint of something _more_. She wants it. More than she dared believe. More than she let herself imagine. 

"It will take more than that."

She laughs, softly, her eyes screwing shut to fight the growing emotion. It builds in her chest, stifling, making it hard to breathe. 

"Don't..." She trails off, cursing, blunt nails biting into his scalp. " _Brasidas..._ "

His spear falls to the sand forgotten, his reliance on her to hold him up an implicit statement. She sighs as his thumb brushes her lower lip, flicking her tongue against the pad. He tastes like blood, dirt and sweat. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of it. 

"You must get to Myrrine. Before he does."

Kassandra frowns, pulling back. "I'm not leaving you."

"Kassandra..." He murmurs, holding her face so tenderly it makes her heart ache. "You will not forgive yourself. I will not be responsible for that hurt."

"Then... then. Come with me?"

He huffs out a quiet laugh, eyes crinkling with good humour. "I will only be a hindrance. Kassandra. Dearest one. Allow an old man his weakness."

She doesn't say the words on the tip of her tongue. She knows about weakness all too well. Instead she nods. "Very well. I should sail soon. Allow me to help you back to the city?" 

Brasidas tips his head in assent, looking down at his spear and then back at her. A flash of something fierce shines in his eyes and then he is pulling her back in, lips pressing to hers with a groan so hungry that she _aches_ from head to toe with the force of her want.

His tongue probes her lips and she opens for him, shivering as he deepens the kiss. For all her dalliances, the times she fancied herself in love or merely in lust... none compare. Both of them bloodied, beaten, halfway to Hades, and this is still the most erotic contact she has experienced, clutched to the chest of the man she's denied herself for months. 

When they part, breathless and flushed with an acute need, Kassandra cannot fight the giddy laugh that builds inexplicably in her throat. Brasidas joins her, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. 

"If there was ever an impetus for rapid recovery..."

Kassandra smiles, shifting until she is supporting his weight more efficiently. "I'll return for you once this is all dealt with."

"Of course."

He speaks with such certainty, showing a faith in her abilities that she has never come close to matching. She's not sure she'll ever get there... but with Brasidas believing in her, she at least has a chance.


End file.
